


Semper Fidelis

by clowsan



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/M, Timey-Wimey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 15:09:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4309947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clowsan/pseuds/clowsan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Claire Temple time travels and Matt Murdock is her fixed point.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Semper Fidelis

_Uno_

The first time she meets him, he knows her.

Claire is sitting at the dining room, her homework from school spread across the oak table. Her father tells her that education is the most important thing in the world and one day when she is successful she will understand. She agrees. She is nine and he is a physics professor so it all made sense.

She stops reading her science textbook for a moment. Light moves at a pace of 186,000 miles for second but it seems to move like molasses that afternoon, creeping through the open curtains and turning the beige walls into a wicked shade of orange. It hits the hung pictures frames and scatters multicolored specks on the hardwood floor.

From the kitchen, she can hear her mother working on dinner. The steady clatter of pots and pans and knife against the chopping board offset by a slow Spanish song from the crackly old radio her mother still insisted on using. It is a soothing background.

Beside her stands a pitcher of cold lemonade. Water droplets slides down the swell of the side. She pours herself some, the ice cubes clinking as they hit the bottom. She wraps her hand around the chilled glass and closes her eyes to savor the coolness.

When she opens her eyes, after a sensation of falling, she is still sitting at the dining table. The glass of lemonade still in her hand but something is different. The table is frosted glass instead of oak. There are still books on the table but they deal with subjects that Claire only hears from her father. _Calculus. Biology. Chemistry._ There are two people sitting with her. A boy and a girl. Teenagers. Fifteen or sixteen. Probably siblings. She has no idea who they are, but the way they look at her, they probably know who she is.

“She’s cute, isn’t she?” The girl says after a moment of silence and what Claire finds odd is that this girl has _her_ mother’s mouth, _her_ father’s straight nose and _her_ grandmother’s cheekbones.

“I think that’s self serving Soph.” The boy, this one has her grandfather’s eyebrows, her mother’s chin and cool grey eyes, replies. That gains him a solid smack on the shoulder. “Should we call Dad?”

As if on cue, there is footsteps and a man enters the room. Like the boy, he had dark brown hair that has a reddish tint when the sun hit it in the right angle. He looks nothing like her but still fascinating with a pair of round glasses that sits on the bridge of his nose.

“We have a visitor, Dad.” The boy says, in an amused tone. Like there is an inside joke that Claire is suppose to be getting but is not.

“Yes, Jon. I noticed.” The man sits at the free chair next to her. He removes his glasses and smiles-- lovely and welcoming-- at her direction. It takes her a moment to realize that his eyes are not focusing on her face but rather at a point around her ear. He is blind. “Hello Claire.”

There is a weird feeling in her stomach as she looks at this man. Not fear, no. Curiosity. She thinks he is important and she will meet him again, so she asks him. “Who are you?”

He stretches a hand towards her and she feels compelled to reach out. His hand is rough and calloused and warm. Massive compared to hers. "My name is Matt."

Her lips purses. Jon snickers at the background. Matt is not at all that uncommon of a name. She knows three Matts already but she supposes a blind Matt even out the odds.

Her head pans around the room, taking in the details for the first time. The wall are white a direct contrast to the dark furnitures. There are black and white painting of flowers and mountains that hang on the wall.  But what catches her attention is the ten photo collage frame that sits on top of the buffet cabinet. Claire steps closer to examine it.

Jon and Soph are in most of the black and white pictures. Sometimes together, sometimes alone and sometimes with another girl with long wavy hair. Another sibling, maybe? In the middle of it all is a wedding photo. Matt looks dashing in a dark suit with a big smile on his clean shaven face and beside him a woman, tall, her father’s jaw, her mother’s nose and her grandmother’s eyebrow. The photographer had caught her in the middle of her laughter, a tear shining at the corner of her eye. She looks very happy.

Claire picks the frame up and turns around. “Is this,” she jams a finger into the glass. “Is this me?”

Matt opens his mouth but before he can answer, she feels a pull at her gut. The room blurs and dims. The frame falls from her disappearing hands.

****  
  


Claire is sitting again. The table is oak and the glass of lemonade still cold in her hand.

She stands up and looks around as if Jon and Soph and Matt will pop out of her mother’s display cabinet.

They don’t.

_Dos_

The second time they meet, he has no idea who she is.

Like most teenagers, Claire is not sure what she wanted to do after she graduated from high school. She flits over college catalogues and reads about majors and minors. The problem with her, she thinks, is that she is interested with everything. Jack of all trade, master of none. She finds it difficult to choose an area to focus on. Her father tells her she just needs time.

What she is sure about is that one day she will meet a blind man named Matt and she will marry him and they will have three beautiful children. But it has been eight years, five months and three days since she last saw him and sometimes she fears the image of his face is starting to blur from her memory.

Summer before her senior year, she volunteers in the animal clinic where her mother works. She helps out in the reception, answering the phones and doing minor paperwork. She is walking towards the break room with her lunch and a paperback copy of the The Tale of Two Cities when the sensation of falling overcomes her. She clutches the knob for support but accidentally opens the door.

She stumbles inside but it is not the break room.

It is a hospital room. The heart monitor is beeping in a steady rhythm at one corner and on the bed there is a sleeping boy. He is bony and pale and most of his face is covered by bandages. But the sun hits his hair to a familiar reddish tint and her heart skips in her chest.

She creeps forward to the chart at the end of the bed. She scans the name on the top of the page. _Matthew Michael Murdock_. What an unfortunate name, she thinks. She reads on and her heart breaks. She understands just enough of what is written to know that her Matt is not born blind.

“Dad?”

The voice almost makes her drop the clipboard. “Ah… no.” She replies then continues. “I’m a nurse.”

“Oh.” Matt says, he leans back on his pillow. “Is it time to change my bandages?”

Claire shakes her head but then remembers herself. “No. I’m just checking your vitals.” She states in what she calls her ‘professional voice’.

There is a moment of silence. Matt is rubbing his hands over each other in a restless manner.

“Have you had lunch yet?” She asks. It is a reflexive action. Food matters in her family and they greet each other with questions about when they last eaten.

He looks a little taken aback. “No...I-- I’m waiting for my Dad to come back.” He answers, finally. “He said he’s just going to be gone for a bit and we’ll be eating lunch together.”

It is odd for Claire to see him so small and helpless. She cannot just leave him alone looking like that. She glanced at her turkey and swiss on rye, her cookies and her unread book.

“Hey do you mind if I eat lunch here? I’ll share my cookies with you. They’re chocolate chip.”

Like any other kid, he perks up at the mention of cookies. “Is that even allowed?”

Claire shrugs her shoulders. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

A smile graces his lips and even with white bandages covering half of his face, she recognizes the older Matt she once saw so many years ago. “Okay.”

She pulls up the chair to his bedside and places the cookies in his hand. “That’s my Abuela’s recipe.”

He takes a bite. “It’s as good as my Dad’s.”

“Really?”

He proceeds to tell about his dad, Jack Murdock, who is a boxer and can bake some great tasting cookies apparently. She reciprocates by telling him about her Abuela and her house in upstate New York that always smelled like something sweet is baking in the oven. She talks about the constant clack of the older woman’s knitting needles as she made blankets and sweaters and scarves and her world class fajitas and tamales that Claire loves. She pauses as she noticed that he is all still, his head tilted towards her.

“Sorry.” She apologizes, flustered. “I get carried away talking sometimes.”

He shakes his head. “No, no. I-- I like the sound of your voice.”

She is sure he is blushing when he says that. It is adorable. She is about to thank him but the door opens and in comes a tall, burly man with a brown paper bag. This must be Jack Murdock. She immediately spots his stark grey eyes and recalls Jon. “Mattie, sorry-- oh… I didn’t know you have a visitor.”

Claire stands up and smiles. She excuses herself because she is sure Jack Murdock will not really buy her ‘I’m a nurse’ routine for too long, not with two working eyes. He thanks her for keeping his son company, patting her shoulder. She says a ‘see you later’ to Matt that has her laughing in her head.

She opens the door only to find another door. She look behind her and sees the blue wall of her mother’s animal clinic instead of Matt and his Dad.

She tells her parents she wants to be a nurse.

_Tres_

The third time they meet, she do not think he recognizes her.

Claire graduates nursing school in relative ease. Her parents are proud. Her father tells her that this is a great career for her. Her mother tells her that now that Claire is not so busy with schoolwork maybe she could bring home a nice boy.

She rolls her eyes. Her mother has always lamented on Claire's lack of lovelife. Oh she has dated quite a few guys. She tries not to mix up their names. Marvin, Martin, Micah, Mitchell, Mason, Murphy. They are all nice boys with dark hair. See the developing pattern? She has to leave them though because it is not fair for them and more importantly, they are not _him_.

She is dragged by her friends to a club with the sole purpose of being drunk. She laughingly downs yet another shot of tequila and attempts to ignore all the male eyes trained on her. The strobe lights and the alcohol in her veins are making her head spin. The bass heavy music burrows into her ears and she closes her eyes to feel it fully.

A feeling of falling and she lands on something soft yet firm.

A bed, she realizes. She gets up slowly and tries to orient herself. It is a dorm room with the usual drab walls and the what-is-this-color carpet. She has to admit, it is organized and clean. There is another bed about five feet away. A bookshelf stands in one side and filled with thick books about the constitution and American Law. On the one of the desk is something that Claire has only seen in a catalogue before. A braille writer. There is a stack of paper beside it and Claire runs her fingertip over the top page, feeling the raised dots. She has started learning braille after the first time she ‘jumped’ but she is still slow at reading it.

_While it is true that the Constitution is written to be inclusive of all, the --_

The door opens and she almost jumps, teetering on her high heels. She looks up and let out a noisy breath of air. It is him. Matt. Her Matt.

The first thought that enters her mind is, _Damn he’s hot_. His glasses are not round but its lenses still have that reddish tint. His jawline is clean and his hair is adorably brushed to one side. She wants to touch it. She wants to touch all of him.

He clears his throat as if he can tell that she has inappropriate thoughts about him. “Are you lost?”

Claire licks her suddenly dry lips. Lost? No. “No. I--”

He groans. “Did Foggy send you? I told him to stop doing this.” He says, in an exasperated tone. Whoever this Foggy is, he must be a close friend.

Matt enters the room walking around the furniture expertly. Claire sticks close to the desk, feeling suddenly light headed. The tequila shots and having him this close are a deadly combination. She sways and then there is a warm hand around her arm, stopping her from toppling over.

“Are you okay?” A little grimace creases his face. “You’ve been drinking.”

“Just a little. I’m celebrating my graduation.” She clutches his shoulder for extra support. She feels the muscles tense under her palm.

He smiles, slightly. “Congratulations. Why don’t you sit down. I’ll grab some water.”

She sit down on the bed where she first landed and watches him open the mini fridge at one corner. He bends over and damn that's a fine piece of ass. She flushes but also mentally pats herself for getting such a great catch. Well not yet. But in the future.

He comes back and hands her the plastic bottle. He has this expression on his cute little face like he once again knows about her not so innocent musings. She mumbles a thank you and the room becomes silent. She takes a sip of the cold liquid.

He places his hands on his hips. “Hey, look. I’m not sure what Foggy told you but it’s probably not true. My birthday is a month ago and I don’t have a pet that died nor am I failing a subject, he’s just…”

Claire stops listening by then just focused on how his mouth is moving. He has such nice lips. She puts the water bottle down on the floor. “You talk too much.” She says.

He looks a bit stun and she takes that opportunity to surge forward. Alcohol and years and years of double taking at every dark haired guy giving her all the courage she needs. She touches his cheek and pulls his face in, her heels closing the height gap between them.

His lips are stiff at first. But Claire is patient. She coaxes him out of it. Soft pecks that turns to smooth glides. But it is when she nibbles on his lower lip that a groan rumbles out of him and one of his hand is suddenly tangled with her hair, drawing her in, and the other is tenderly running up and down her arm. He is kissing her back with gusto and it is wonderful.

He rest his forehead against hers when they break apart for air. His face is flushed, his hair mussed and his glasses is skewed. The image makes her chuckle.

“That’s not very encouraging.” He says and she caresses his cheek.

“I think you will look better with round lenses.” She states. He hums in reply.

She reaches for his glasses and he lets her pull it off. She wants to see his whole face because she can feel that familiar tug at her gut and she knows she will be gone soon. She gives him one more tender kiss. “ _Quiero conocerte mejor, querido._ ” She murmurs against his lips.

“What?” He blurts out as the room blurs out of her vision.

****  
  


Claire opens her eyes and she is back in the club. The strobes lights pulsating and the music thrumming. She touches her lips.

They are still tingling.

 

_Interludio_

Foggy thinks Matt's going crazy and times like this, he kinda agrees with him.

"Maybe you imagined her up." Foggy says. It has been three days since she happened and all attempts to search for her turn out into a whole lot of nothing.

“Imagined her up?” Matt asks incredulously. “I’m glad you think I have such great imagination but even I’m not that good.”

She is real, he knows she is. Her scent still lingers on his sheets and he can feel her fingers running down his cheek.

Foggy jumps on his back, curling an arm over his shoulder. “Is that you telling me that this girl is a fantastic kisser?”

Matt purses his lip. Yes she is a fantastic kisser but a gentleman never tells. He nudges Foggy with an elbow. “Are you sure you didn’t send her?”

His best friend pauses. “You’re really into this girl, aren’t you?”

He doesn’t answer but that is an answer in itself.

“Well if she’s a sensible girl then I’m sure she’ll come around.” Foggy says, kindly. “Until then just hone that Spanish to knock her socks off.”

Matt smiles. “Thanks, Fog.”

_Quatro_

The fourth time they meet.  Claire hauls him out of the dumpster.

It has been a shock. When she pictures meeting Matt in present time, she imagines some great romantic heart stopping scene. It is corny and perhaps unrealistic but she has been building up to this moment for most of her life.

It has been heart stopping alright but far from romantic. Matt doesn’t recognize her but she almost does not recognize him too. Gone is the clean-shaven dork of a young man she remembers kissing and here is a haggard looking man in a weird all black outfit and a blindfold.

He is stubborn, still wanting to head out even with all his injuries but he is out like light now and is bleeding on her couch. Her hands don’t shake as she begins stitching him up and cleaning up the blood and the grime off his body.

“You better not die on me.” She mutters, pulling on the thread none too kindly. “I still want to meet Jon and Soph and that little girl.”

She stabilizes him and they are torturing a man together. Not her usual first date. But nothing is better than adrenaline in facilitating attraction or so she has read in college.

When she tells him, she doesn’t believe that he enjoys hurting the man, she means it with every fiber of her being. She wants to tell him that she knows. She knows of his gentleness and his good heart.

But she doesn’t know how. She watches him walk away and for the first time, she realizes that this relationship may not be as easy as she thought it will be.

*

His fingers linger on her face. Their second kiss is tender and Claire tastes copper from her cut lip but it is not less spectacular than the last time they locked lips so many years ago.

Matt has this bewildered expression on his face. “Have we met before?” He asks, softly. “I think I met you before.”

She pushes hair away from his face and smiles slightly. “I was wondering when you’d figure that out.”

“You’re that girl. From college!” He exclaims.

She tries to chuckle but it makes her bruised ribs hurt, so it comes out as a wheeze. His face is priceless and she wishes he can see himself. “Right at one, _querido_.”

But his eyebrows are still creased together. He rubs his chin. “This might sound crazy but when I was still a kid and I was in the hospital there’s this nurse. She-- that’s you isn’t it?”

Claire runs a hand through the shaved part of her hair. No use in hiding it. “Yup.” She says, popping her ‘p’.

“But how? You’re not a vampire, are you?”

“No. I’m something weirder.”

*

“So you time travel?” Matt repeats.

It has been a long hour of her explaining her abilities to him, which is difficult because she doesn’t understand it herself. It is not something she controls. It just happens.

She shrugs as much as she can with her injuries. “If you can call it that. It’s more like time jumps. I only do it in relation to you.”

He looks guilty and she pats his shoulders.

“It’s not your fault,” She says, then adds, “not that I know anyway. Certainly made my life interesting.”

There is a moment of silence as he processes everything. He traces circles on her wrist with the pad of his thumb. It is relaxing and calming.

“What did you see in the future?” He asks.

She looks out of his window. “Happiness.”

*

The door to the rooftop closing sounds like a gunshot as Matt leaves. Claire covers her mouth to physically hold back the sob she knows is threatening to spill out. Maybe that happiness is just false promise.

After all the future is never set on stone.

_Cinco_

__

The fifth time she meets him, he knows her and she knows him.

She is curled up on Matt’s bed trying to figure out how everything went wrong so fast. She cannot believe she held on to this for this long and just to watch it crumble. She closes her eyes but it does little to stop her tears.

She just needs a moment to grieve. Tomorrow she can be strong but for now she wants to, she wants to-- a familiar sensation of falling.

“Claire.” says the voice, and a hand lands and cards through her hair. She looks up and Matt stands there. Older than she ever seen him before but still a striking picture of a man. His hair more gray than reddish brown, his eyes tender and loving.

“What did I do?” He asks, caressing her cheek. It is almost amusing how sure he is that this is his fault.

“You said I _shouldn’t_.” she answers, simply.

And that’s enough, because he kneels down in front of her and pulls her close. She tucks her face on the crook of his shoulder and lets the tears flow freely. He runs his hand up and down her back and murmurs apologies and reassurances against her ear. _I’m sorry, darling. I’m so so sorry. It will be okay. It will be okay_.

She doesn’t know how long they stayed like that but once she cannot cry anymore, he kisses her forehead. “Just give me time, Claire. It was a difficult period for me.” He pushes back her hair. “Do what you think is right, dear and I promise everything will be okay.”

He blurs from her vision and she dissolves from his arms. When everything focuses she is back on Matt’s bed. She slides out and takes a deep breath.

Doing what is right is rarely easy.

_De Nuevo_

The scent of the cinnamon latte hits Claire’s nose before she notices the hand that holds it.  She lifts her head up from the book she is reading and sees Matt standing there. It has been four months since the last time she saw him in person. (His new armor is doing its job quite fantastically.) Four months since she told him that she will be there if he really needed her but other than that…

He looks different and it is not just because they are in broad daylight and in a public park. He appears more well rested even though she knows he is still very much active in his “other job”. She has newspaper clippings as proof. His hair is neatly combed and his shave a little closer than normal.

“Are you stalking me?” She asks, lightly.

He sputters. “I’m _not_ \-- I, I was on my way to the office when I--”

“--smelled me?”

Matt flushes and she knows she is right.

“Can I join you?”

She eyes the latte and takes it from him. “Well, you did bring me my favorite latte.” She pats the empty space beside her on the bench and a smile stretches his lips as he collapses his cane and sits down. Their thighs touch.

They spent a few moments in comfortable silence. Claire enjoying her hot beverage and watching the scenery. Children with their parents. Couples walking hand in hand. Joggers lost in their music and path.

“I’ve been thinking.” Matt finally says.

“Oh? That’s dangerous.”

He shakes his head. “I’ve been thinking about you. About us. About what you said you saw in the future.” He pauses. “I always thought it’s the things that are happening around me that’s stopping me from having any sort of happiness in my life. But that’s not entirely true, is it? It’s myself mostly. I’m pushing away any chance at that because I didn’t think I deserve it. Because I thought I needed to do it alone.”

She inhales. “Matt--”

“No please let me finish. I-- Claire I understand your decision. But these past few months, with Foggy knowing, I realized I don’t want to be alone. If you’d give me a chance, I’d very much like to make you a part of my life. You know, not just a night nurse.”

“A friend?” She edges. Her latte forgotten at one side as she angles her body so she is facing Matt.

His lips curls upwards almost shyly and she sees both Jon and Soph in his smile. “Yes... for now.”

That sounds like a promise. It makes her heart jumps in her chest. She hums and she follows the line of his jaw with her fingers. “I think you’re off to a good start.”

**Author's Note:**

> Jon and Soph are a product of my and youareiron_youarestrong's imagination. Thank you dear for indulging me.


End file.
